fresh eggs taste like...me, i mean, inner self.

once i saw, on tv, martha stewart bringing fresh eggs from her own chickens to julia child. julia says, do they really taste better? martha says with utter conviction, yes, they do, julia. since then i often wonder, do they? or don't they?

as it turns out we are staying in a house that, ta-daa, has three productive chickies in the backyard. it's quite a sight to see hwubby gathering the chickies back into their coop at the end of the day and then come in with...fresh eggs. upon close examination i can say they do look more refined and exquisite than those store-bought ones. what about the taste? so far i've made egg drop soup with them. they taste lighter. in a subtle way the flavor has a gentle and pristine quality to it. at the same time, in a tangible way, the chicken soup is that much more nourishing. i like it a lot.

in this morning's brief meditation it comes to me that the inner self shares some core common things with these eggs. they are both so pure. ever sweet, ever gentle, ever fresh. i like these eggs because, in hwubby's words, they taste just like you.